Faded Memories
by Indecisively Yours
Summary: What lies on the other side of the door comes as a shock to Quinn.
1. Chapter 1

Quinn likes to stop and think sometimes about how much their lives have changed. Accident that left her temporarily paralyzed, Yale, married with a kid now—her life was definitely changed, but for the better.

Of course, she's lost so many things, but she's gained so much in return that life's somewhat balanced things out for her. At least, that's how she likes to view it now. Because he finally came through with his promise and bought her that house, that furniture, that stuff he promised her.

"Momma, make him stop!" a little boy, no more than four, screams, running around the table before he comes to a stop behind her.

"Eli," Quinn whispers as she watches Puck approach the both of them, as if on the prowl.

The small boy shushes her, hiding behind her once more as his father approaches.

"I wonder where he went," Puck says as he stops, wrapping his arms around Quinn.

"No idea," she replies with a shake of her head.

"Then he won't mind if I do this," he begins, leaning closer and pressing a kiss to her lips.

The child whines, coming out from his hiding spot. "You guys are gross!" he shouts at both of them before running away.

"You hear that?" Puck says, pulling her closer. "We're gross."

"You could be gross again, if you want," she teases, wrapping her arms around his neck.

Just then, the doorbell rings. The small child shouts from his newest hiding spot that he'll get the door. Puck finds him before he can reach the door, stopping him in his tracks, leaving Quinn to answer it.

What lies on the other side of the door comes as a shock to her.

She's about the same height as her. Blonde hair with pink dye splayed all over like a hot mess. A nose ring graces her face, along with a vibrant, fuchsia lipstick and attention grabbing black eyeliner to match. It's not the make up that shocks Quinn (or the poor choice in attire) but the fact that she's the spitting image of someone she knows.

"Quinn, who's at the—" Puck begins to say, yet comes to a halt when he sees the figure at the door.

"I'm sorry if I disturbed you guys, but I was wondering if I could at least come inside?" she asks, hugging her soaked jacket tighter. "The rain's kind of freezing and there's pink dripping everywhere."

They're both silent, too stunned to say anything right about now.

"You guys probably don't know who I am," she mutters. Reaching into her pocket she pulls out an old picture. In it is two young kids, no older than sixteen, with a small child in the woman's arms. They're both donning hospital attire. "You sent me this when I was a child," she explains, turning the picture to the back, "Even signed both of your names on it so I could know who you really were. I'm—"

"Beth," the two of them whisper in unison.

"Oh, good, you know who I am," she replies relieved. "Does that mean you're going to let me in or should I start walking again?"

Quinn's quick to push Puck aside, letting the girl inside of the entryway. "Shoes off," she's quick to instruct. "Puck, go get her a towel. I don't want her dripping pink all over the floor."

Puck disappears then, encountering a confused Eli along the way. He instructs the kid to set another place on the dinner table as he detours into the bathroom and grabs one of their darkest towels.

"You must be starving," Quinn says, grabbing the towel and squeezing as much water as she can from her hair before she leaves the rest to the girl. "Where exactly are you coming from? And how did you get here?"

"I…I…" Beth stutters.

"Eli set up another place at the table," Puck informs her. "Come on, dinner's ready."

Head hung low, the teen follows them into the kitchen. She's confronted with a child no more than four who looks like the spitting image of the man before her.

"Hi!" he greets, extending his hand. "I'm Elijah. Though most people call me Eli."

"Beth," she reciprocates, shaking his hand lightly before sitting down at the one spot that doesn't seem to be taken.

Quinn notes that she's silent all throughout dinner. Aside from the usual antics from Puck and Eli, they're all rather silent. Once they're done, cleaning made simple with the dishwasher tonight, Eli's instructed upstairs to play while Puck and Quinn lead Beth to the living room.

"You have some questions to answer," Puck says once they're all seated.

Beth can only nod. A silent look between Puck and Quinn and they're in agreement to ease on into the million dollar question.

"Where are you coming from?" Quinn asks. It's simple enough and not intrusive enough to gain her trust.

"New York."

"How'd you get here?" Puck inquires, leaning forward in his seat next to Quinn.

"A train. Then a bus. Then a taxi with the last bit of money I brought with me."

"How'd you find us?" Quinn's turn to ask. It's weird how in sync the two of them are with these questions.

"Puckerman?" Beth points out with a look. "How many, besides his side of the family, have you encountered?"

_Touché, _they both think with the raise of an eyebrow.

"All right, we have to call Shelby. Let her know you're here," Quinn says, getting up from her seat. "Find her number in the white pages if we have to."

"No! Please don't!" Beth protests. "Please don't call her! I ran away. Don't let her know I'm here. Please, I'll go somewhere else but I won't go back to live with her."

"You ran away?!" Puck shouts, getting up from his seat. Quinn's quick to push him back down, turning to Beth.

"Why are you talking like that, Beth?" she asks. "Did she do something to you?"

"No," she whispers. "She just…No."

"Then what is it? Why are you here? Why'd you go through all the trouble of finding us?" Quinn asks.

Beth gets up then, walking back to the hall where her jacket's housed. She returns a few moments later with a slightly damp piece of paper in hand. Unfolding it, she hands it to Puck.

"Beth, this is…" Puck starts, looking up at her.

"I know you guys gave me up. I don't know what happened to make you guys disappear but I know you were around when I was little. I don't remember much but I remember a bit and I have pictures to prove it!" she explains.

Quinn takes a seat next to him, skimming the paper over his shoulder. One phrase strikes her immediately: _transfer of legal guardianship. _

"Beth, why are you here?" Quinn asks once more, tone softer than before.

The teen sighs, slumping down into the armchair she was sitting in before. She's got a look of worry on her face, biting her lip in that same way Quinn does often.

"I'm here because...I'm here because I want you guys to take me back."


	2. Chapter 2

"Do you want to keep her?" he asks.

She's suddenly thrust into the past––a past where she was asked the same question, standing before a window pane, looking out at a newborn child wrapped in a pink blanket. What does she do this time? What answer is she supposed to give him.

The clock ticks incessantly, loudly, harshly. It won't stop; with each passing tock, she feels as though the pressure against her increases. He needs an answer––a serious answer to the very serious question he just asked.

"Yes," she answers. There's no hesitation in her voice, no sense of weakness. Sure, she's afraid of what her answer could mean for their future, but it's what she wants. In hindsight, it's what she's always wanted. "Do you?"

She hears him sigh a happy sigh. With the bit of light shining into their room, she can see the faint outline of a smile on his face. His eyes look away to the door cracked open, nodding for her to do the same. She does.

"Beth?" he calls out. She expects no response, no answer. Instead, the door creaks open, reminding him that he needs to add a bit of oil to the hinges come tomorrow. "How long have you been standing there?"

Quinn sits up, reaches over for the lamp switch, and flicks it. The room suddenly fills with light, causing the two of them to flinch as their eyes adjust. Their daughter, with less pink in her hair after her shower, stands before them, adjusting from one foot to another.

"Not long," she answers. She bites her lip in that same manner her mother does, yet her eyes are cast down to the ground or something down there. Either way, she doesn't look them in the eye. "I just...couldn't sleep and I heard you guys talking."

"Come here," Quinn says, opening her arms out for the girl. There she goes again. She doesn't hesitate. Her maternal instincts haven't registered the years she's missed in her daughter's life.

Beth hesitates. She takes a cautious step, finally looking up at both of them. When she sees the smile on her father's face, an all too familiar one that mirrors her own, followed by a nod, she walks faster. In the blink of an eye, she wraps her arms around her mother's torso and begins to cry.

"I thought you guys didn't want me," she mumbles, breaths becoming shorter and shorter. Quinn places a kiss on her forehead, ushering her to breathe. "You were there and...then...you...weren't and..."

"Sweetie, that wasn't it," Quinn assures her, continuing to stroke her hair. "Things just became complicated between Shelby and us. We were young. We weren't making the best decisions. The only thing we wanted was for you to have everything you could, things we couldn't give you."

Puck gets up, goes toward the closet, and pulls out a shoebox. Quinn whispers at Beth to watch, just as Puck begins to show her the contents of the box. Pictures spanning from her fourth birthday to about a year or two ago begin to litter the space before her.

"She'd send us pictures from time to time," Puck explains. "But we weren't allowed to send anything to you. It was part of the deal we made. We wanted to be more involved. Believe me, we did. But she's right. Things just got complicated between us."

A shout for Quinn soon reaches their room. She pulls away from the girl, pressing another kiss to her forehead with a promise that she'll return soon. Off to check up on their son, who is probably plagued by another nightmare.

Puck grabs her hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. "You look just like her, you know that?" he says. "Almost gave us a heart attack when you got here. We thought Quinn had traveled from the past."

The joke, however horrible it might be, gets a laugh out of his daughter. Without tissues in sight, she goes to wipe her nose with her arm. Puck stops her, grabbing his shirt from the foot of the bed and handing it to her.

"She'll kill me if I let you do that," he tells her. Another laugh. Now they're getting somewhere.

Quinn returns then, look of relief on her face. "Small nightmare," she tells them. "He's back to sleeping soundlessly."

Puck glances up at Beth and gives her a small nod before turning his attention to Quinn. "If we're going to do this, we're going to do this the right way."

Looks like it's time to make a few calls––come morning, that is. For now, they settle their sixteen year old daughter back into bed.

She falls asleep to the promise of things working out come tomorrow.


End file.
